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"look like a dirty girl"
there is ash and grit
rise of cheekbone
flecks like black snow
the long strands that flow
cupola of soul
where your dark wings

I can smell the smoke
along your spine
cities and feilds
forests in the murk
the saplings scorched
the chimneys rising
stoic and windowless
torn walls

feet are dusted with all
that is crumpled
the great passion
converging like swirling

not even the rains will
rinse this stain
nor rainbows colour
distress in your eyes

how your warmth pours out
despite the atrocities
how you find your sword
of good
to cleave meaning

a beauty of spirit
beneath the ragged

Editing stage: 


Spirit ravens are here in my city on a communication tower
I can see them from the patio where I drink my coffee
and I like the idea of angels and the revelations of the end
of the system of things coming close fascinates me
all these fires and whirlwinds and the other day we could
smell the smoke from the Minnesota fires here in Ontario
a terrible and beautiful burning smell
just had to write a poem about all of that

Thank You

author comment

still havent really researched her or watched the movies
and all the angels with their wings
the myth of all that

author comment

riddled with mystery
false hope and promise

like a storm tossed entry
to a long voyage of the damned

while the happen ending
story waits like a rusted anchor

author comment
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